The Journal of Xavier Volkov
by Courier 7
Summary: This is the story of the Orussian Xavier, Volkov. Who spent his life growing up during the Neuroi war. His discovery of his own magic, and his own personal story of how he grew up.


_Due to the references made much later in this writing, I am obliged to put this under the Strike Witches fanfictions. I would much rather have put this on Fictionpress, however due to the way this writing is done, it fits on this site, and nowhere else in truth. My finest apologies to anyone who may take the lightest bit of offense to this. Now then, this story for the entirety of it, will follow the Journal of one of my own personal characters. Xavier Volkov, one of the few male magic users know on the face of the earth at the time, I won't spoil anything else though, just enjoy reading the story, rather than an Author note._

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Journal Entry One, January 2nd, 1941:I am Xavier, Volkov, I am thirteen years of age as I write this. Born of Orussia, this is one of my few ways to maintain my own sanity, and perhaps keep myself from taking my own life. I apologize for blood that may be on this page to any future readers of this journal, I have another open cut in my hand this evening, that I haven't been allowed to wrap up. My siblings are asleep right now, I am grateful for that much, I was able to peel the floorboards up, and was lucky to find my leather bound note book, a jar of ink, and a quill. I can't believe they are still here, I thought my brothers, or my sisters would notice. However I guess sleeping on the floor, like I normally would was enough to keep the abnormal appearance of the floor, from their sight. However I must hurry now, I can hear my brother starting to wake up again, It is best if I hide this, before the rest of them find it.

Journal Entry Two, January 31st, 1941:I am starting to become sick of hearing only the floorboards creak, such an ugly sound, almost as ugly a sound as whenever one of my siblings speaks. Shouldn't even call it speaking though, all they ever do is yell at me, treating me the same way they would our Oxen outside. I have no say in this however, I can only sit, and take the abuse. What use is crying, or fighting back, it just gives the four of them more of a reason to continue. That's what I keep telling myself at least...I should stray away from this though, I may as well write about my day, most likely a wiser choice, than angering myself more.

The summer is finally over, along with the harvest season for the most part. I noticed that over the summer I have filled out quite a bit. I have at least gained a foot of height, going from standing at five feet of height, to six feet. It doesn't matter much though, it gives my family more of a reason to put me out in the fields to work, though it is better than being trapped inside with my siblings. However I digress, on that matter for the moment. School is finally back in session, my teachers have started to question some of the bruises and scars I have on my body. I only tell them that it is from working, it's the only half reasonable excuse I can come up with. I was able to come home a bit later tonight, I chose to stop in at the local shop, and listen the radio. The year is 1941, it appears as though we've had a few issues finally arisen, The evacuation of Karlsland has begun, sadly it seems like there are a few issues it appears. However the radio won't tell us, much else, or what could have possibly even caused something on that scale. However we were taught not to question it, there was no point to it felt like.

Shortly after I had heard the radio broadcast, I began to make my way home. How I dreaded having to walk through that door again, Yet I still did. Smiling a bit, of course most of my smiles are forced now. Especially around my mother, my father, my two brothers, and my two sisters. It isn't fun to be the youngest among siblings, even if, it is only by a year or two. Let alone is it enjoyable to come home, eat dinner, and then be beaten until I vomit it back up unto the ground. It's a cruel life, but it is one I am stuck living. If only I were a witch, maybe I would be in boot camp, rather than here. I am signing off for the night now, I wonder if I will make it until morning.

Journal Entry Three, March 8th, 1941: I apologize in advance for not writing in the past few months, my siblings found my ink, so I have not been able, or allowed to write for a long time. I was able to scrounge up enough spare coins I found at school, to actually purchase a new quill, and a new bottle of ink. I feel as though my brothers and sisters, have forgotten about this by now. They claim that I am nothing more than an animal, so they tell me I can no longer act human. I know I should not ask, any poor souls that reads this, but imagine not being able to speak, not being allowed to do much more than walk, and sleep on the floor. It's cruel, however it is life for me now. I should not try to burden this journal with my problems, nor should I burden any soul poor enough to stumble upon this...I have some good news at least, in the past few months I have grown another six inches, My teachers seem surprised about my growth spurts every time they see me. I wonder how tall I will be when I stop growing, well that's if I can make it that many more years.

Once again though I digress from the low points in my life. It's better to talk about the high points of my life. I just recently turned fourteen, I almost missed my birthday, however a teacher made note of it to me. I was elated to say the least, I couldn't believe it, I didn't think I'd even make it as many years as I have. Along with that I did make a friend, sorta. I don't her name, however she seems friendly enough, she will talk to me, however she won't tell me her name. I think she might be afraid of me, that's why I'm so worried about it maybe, I guess I shouldn't bother much with it though. Being six foot, six' never makes you look friendly.

I can still speak though, that is the good news. I haven't spoken at home in so long, I was worried that maybe I was forgetting how to talk. However that is besides the point, once again I have some news to talk about, since I never know who may end up reading this. Today another odd attack was reported, apparently nearly an entire town was destroyed again. No survivors were reported, so it seems like something major is going on. Yet here in Orussia, the Government has withheld any information about the situation from us. I'm angered by this, but I can't do anything, so I just try to ignore it. Now I must hurry up and finish this, family is home again. I missed writing in here so much.

Journal Entry Four, May 28, 1941: I apologize once again for the two month break in my writings. It has been tough, I'm usually not comfortable talking about talking about what my siblings have done to me, but I need to talk now. It's the only thing that's keeping me from killing every last one of them in the night. Yesterday...YESTERDAY DAMMIT! Yesterday they tore out my eye...my God Damn eye, WHAT DO THE FOUR GET FOR IT, THEY GET APOLOGIZED TO FOR HAVING TO SEE SUCH A HORRIBLE THING! My parents believed they lie they heard, my brother, Dimitri, he told them that I had been working the fields, and tripped, impaling my eye on a spike, and he had to help me. Truth is, they held in me in place, my three other siblings, while Dimitri tore out my eye. Why you might ask? Apparently if I could not plow the field straight with two eyes, than there was no difference in me doing it with only one eye! The bastard, MY OWN BROTHER, EVEN CUT OFF MY DAMN EYELIDS! God how it hurts, As I right this now, I see even with the eye patch, blood still drips onto the page. My apologies for the blood...I hate leaving blood in my journal...it's so wrong, the page was white when I bought this, now it is black, white, and red. Just like most of my clothing. I can't keep writing, I'm in too much pain to.

Journal Entry Five, May 29, 1941:I should have talked about it yesterday, however I was too angry, and too pained to recall the radio broadcast of that day. Karlsland, Berlin has been evacuated, the enemy is confirmed as Neuroi finally. I had only heard of them in my textbooks at school, their last notable appearance was in 1917. I believe at least. So this is something for the historians out there who get their hands on this book. May 26th, 1941, Neuroi have taken over parts of Karlsland.

I guess to help my sanity once again, I will recall today's events. Today...well today I went to school, my eye covered by a black patch. Some laughed, others flinched, only one of my entire school approached me the whole day. That same girl I had talked about earlier, the one who's name I don't know. She told me it was alright...she told me it was fine that I looked like this. It was just an, _accident. _**Ha, and accident they all think!** How wrong they are...But I let them believe that, I don't want to die. If I told school, or police, family would kill me, and bury body. Than they would claim I never even existed.


End file.
